Well, apparently the zombie-apocalypse-inspired famine is over here in Smalltown. For days I joined the ranks of the underfed, searching the picked over shelves for something to eat. Meat was scarce, so scarce that I think I heard a human growl as I got dangerously close to her prey, some rather grey looking chicken breasts. No thank you. I will wait for the organic, no antibiotics or hormones brand to reappear, as the last thing I need is another hormone. God only knows what hormones chickens have and why. Best not to risk finding out.
The produce department in the Winter is like a trip around the world, except for the body cavity search, flight cancellations, and Ebola. There wasn't a local thing to be found, but that's what you get for craving fruit in the Winter. I bought some lovely pears, likely covered in DDT, but I'll just have remember to spit on them before I take a bite. Life is risky. Deal with it.
However, there was no bread. Now, for those who just joined us, let me explain. You see, at the store here in SmallTown, there's a regular bread aisle and then there's the bakery. I could understand why the regular bread aisle would be picked over, as normal deliveries hadn't started again after the "HolidaysThat Satan Created As part of his His Glorious Revenge. "( Yeah, this is one of the more wilder conspiracy theories out there, but it's one of my favorites. I'll tell you over a campfire someday.) Anyway, all you need to know right now is that Beelzebub is surely the cause of a lack of bread on the supermarket shelves, but why, I ask, is there no bakery bread? Did they run out of flour? Yeast? (don't look at me, I don't have any of that to spare anymore and for that I say "Thanks Menopause, you rock.")
In other news, lately, people are holding doors for me all over the place.
This is something you are supposed to be happy about as a woman, and don't get me wrong, I am thankful and I say thank you and all that but nowadays, men, both younger and older do not hold doors for women except if they are OLD WOMEN or someone with a handicap. I mean, I'm not old so it can't be that, but ........oh, yeah, I had a hurty leg for a few days and I must have been limping slightly.
PHEW!!! close one.
I have to admit something about door holding, though. I kind of don't like it. It's not because I've gone all Gloria Steinem or anything. Hell, I usually take anything anyone will give me, especially stuff like help, or wine. But there's always this awkward moment, you know, when you see someone is coming out of the door and you're going in and you reach for it the door and then he grabs the handle and holds it and looks at you, waiting for you to go in, and then you have to smile and say thank you as if you really like it but you don't because it's just weird.
Somethings may have been meant to stay back in the old days, when women were all grateful for anything someone did for them, and men held doors for women because if they didn't do this as a child, their fathers would bash them over the head. It's not like that now. Kids don't have fathers. They have donors and Mommy impregnated herself because no one ever held the door for her or even asked her to send a nude picture of herself in text.
But door-holding its kind of small-townsy, and in that way I'm ok with it. My leg was hurty, after all.